The Crimson Stalker
by Prymozh
Summary: A collection of short stories regarding the life of a worgen stalker.
1. Blast of Blades and Blazes

**Blast of Blades and Blazes**

''You dirty cheater!'', a hand slammed down upon the table loudly. A bunch of men were playing cards of fortune at one of the many corners of the Blue Recluse, as it was common on any weekend nights. When dark folded it's misty embrace over the city of Stormwind, each individual rarely seen walking the streets would now be crawling to one of the most notorious bars in the capital city of the Alliance.

The crowd to be seen in the bar was majestic, or on the other hand, pittyful. Never the less, it made happy sounds and yells and shouts were thrown around like last year's snow. The waiter ran between tables, picking up plates and bottles just to be rushed back at them with hands full of bountiful baskets, filled with food and drinks to be passed around the customers that evening.

Around one of the tables you'd see a bunch of armored bulky forms. The Blue Recluse was one of the few cantinas that could be frequented by the law-keepers without having to deal with major disturbances of the public peace and laws. The mass of guards would be slamming mugs upon the table and crying out for refills, waving the empty ones around before the waiter would appear, sending bolts and drops of leftover drinks around the place, hardly any better than the rest of the company, if not worse.

On their side fits a smaller table, beseated by a group of women that keep giving the guards the witty eyes, giggling and winking in their direction. At which, naturaly, the guardians of law and justice responded with louder yells, more ale and smoke. The smokers were in majority of the bar, which showed in the handmade mist that befell upon the tavern, obscuring the sight if one would decide to hang out around the corner that brought the visitor inside the pub. The smoke completely hid the most secluded places of the bar, between both the staircasses running upwards to the elevated part you would spot secluded pairs that either shared a private drink, or maybe were closer than some would deem proper for public. Then again, the smoke hides them perfectly, making most of the club residence unaware of them.

On the elevated part, some of the more ''noble'', if they deserve to be called so, visitors alodge. Mostly men and women in cheesy clothes, with tables filled with roast, beef and expensive looking wine bottles. Giggling and talking low, unlike the crowd beneath them, they chatter as a special waiter of their own walks among the tables, smiling with a fake sadisfaction while taking orders calmly, trying to please them as much as possible. Sure there were less of them, but they still gave higher and more recent tips than the mob on ground floor below.

Back to the lower part of the tavern, right off the counter you'd spot a Draenei girl fiercely fighting off a drunk dwarf, eagerly trying to slip his hands around her waist and other places. Not so far away, on the side of the counter two shady indivisuals lean, both of the male gender, a night elf and a human, chatting with hats lowly tipped to hide their faces, already unrecognizable in all the smoking fog that accumulated around the tables. They talk low and constantly look around, as if paranoid or perhaps discussing something that should not be discussed with quite the array of guard not more than ten feet away from them.

Passing onto the counter, another Draenei woman could be spotted, loosely dressed without a care of what shows as she is deep in conversation with a worgen male, sitting while sipping some of his drink as he chatters with her with a constant smile.

The worgen lad that is spoken of is quite grey, at first glance. Perhaps the color of his fur could be described as sicklish, thanks to the eerie glow it emitts in the faint lighting of the room, mixed with the smoked curtain spoken of before. Only that, sometime, at a quicker wave of an arm, or a shake of his head and mane, a faint trace of falling ash may be seen.. Or cinders.. But then again, who could tell in the foggy tavern. A mixture of silver and bleak gray falls over his forms that can be seen outside his clothes, that consist of a very well tailored suit and a set of pants. Both glimmer in the flickers the candles give off, showing more than the average wealth on the lowered part of the Recluse. His voice is low, yet carefully intoned, as if he was a singer. It flows through the air, easily distincted from the rest of the brawling shouts the crowd yells, the words humming like a pleasant melody learnt by heart. His smile is always there, the edges of his lips narrowed upwards as he nods towards the Draenei so-called- beauty that is nearly melting over his left arm. He casually throws a glance over the bar behind himself, before again setting his eyes on the female of the different, outer-worldly species. He replies now and then, yet an expert could clearly tell he doesn't really care what the Draenei lass is telling him.

The worgen male is not muscular by the least. He sports a healthy figure, the ussual crooked posture with a lowered stance. His arms settles both on the counter, his fingers and claws entwingled in a clenched status so that they are unmoved by the hands of the draenei that is constantly wrapping hers around his higher arm, as if trying to pull it towards herself. His face is stone-cold polite, the before mentioned smile placed upon his elongated jaw that includes a set of sharp looking fangs that shine cleanly if ever on display. His eyes an faint orange mixture of colors, giving off a fiery look, a contrast to his calm exterior. His facial features are somewhat soft, although sharp enough to not make him look like a man that's given himself into lazyness. His muzzle edged just like the rest of the visage the worgen owns, aswell as the edged, somewhat neatly groomed faint beard that hangs under his chin.

''Yes, yes, indoubitably..'', he nods and answers towards the female clinging onto his left paw, rolling his eyes once he turns his head the other way, checking the bar for anything unussual. Brawls, hazard games, betting, drunkards, gallons of ale passed in seconds, shouting, singing, cursing, fistfighting.. Everything was calm as per ussual.

The cigarette mist swirls around a lone figure passing amidst the full tables. A tall, caped, hooded and lowered person silently strides towards the two shady individuals at the counter. Normally, such a sight would attract many looks and comments, but at the Blue Recluse, on a Saturday Night, nobody even remotely gave a blast if a dragon came storming and roaring into the bar. The only thing that could cause disruption besides cheating at cards would be an empty mug, for which the waiter and the barkeep carefully took care of.

As the hooded concealed figure reached the two sneaky-looking men, it lowered it's hood and revealed another set of pointed purple ears that twitched, following the moves of the elven's eyes that looked over his leather-covered shoulders to see if his appearance caused any commotion. Gladly for him, the mob inside was way too budy with a brawl because someone spilled someone else's mug of ale. The three of the stuck their heads together and whispered lowly to eachother. Well, whispered, more of talked with a more subtle voice, that sounded like careful whispers when compared to the rumble and ruckus the rest of the Recluse made. They nodded at eachother swiftly and at some point, only the newcomer nodded. In response, both his colleagues bolted their head upwards, as if something suddenly shocked them. They looked at eachother and shook their head towards the new elf, but he kept nodding at them. Suddenly, all three of them looked towards the bar entrance and froze.

There, a lone figure appeared. As did the elf before, the frame moves silently and night unseen between the crowd, again, attracting as little attention as would an ant. It moves with grace and a somewhat of a flow. All of the moves the person performes seem to keep a constant move along with the rest of his body. The closer the person moves to the counter, the more it is recignizable that it's another worgen male. As soon as he is only a few meters away from the few persons hanging out at the counter, the trio of the no-trustworthy-looking males dashes to the other side of the bar and swiftly makes their way out. The male seems not to notice, or barely just makes it seem so that he did not.

The worgen's bloke moves are at ease, as if he isn't aware of anything that goes on around him. He mostly has a paw tucked behind his belt, the other slightly hanging next to his side freely and carelessly. Overall, his posture is loose, the ussual, crooked, lowered stance the male representatives of the worgen race carry even more accentuated with this particular fellow, as he walks soundlessly, bare-footed he strides with the swing in his step he always seems to sport in his walk.

The closer the male gets to the counter, the more visible he gets. Perhaps it is the pitch-black fur that makes him so easily spotted, yet still his way of walking makes him evade the eyes with each step. Still, his fur shines in it's darkness, as if it was freshly scrubbed with coal from the deepest mines of Dun Morogh.

His attire one that quickly gives off one simple impression: rogue, killer, assassin, stalker, shadow-walker, all those stereotypes radiate off his persona. He is seen in red, crimson-bloody leather pants and shirt, coming next to the rest of his clothes. Red gloves, red belt and a half-torn crimson scarf that hangs around his neck. The leathers cling to his frame tightly, yet not flauntingly. It still shows his lean frame, revealing the lithe form with broad, thick shoulders. He is not the ussual bulky worgen fellow that you'd see towering armon the crowds, perhaps he may be even shorter than the normal, average worgen male. His arms probably probably having the thickest of muscles of all his body parts, it is clearly shown thanks to the tight sleeves of his leathery shirt clinging around them slenderly.

His face just as black as the rest of his furred body, black and dark as night itself. The lines that are his muzzle, maw, cheeks and mane are distincted only thanks to the glimmer that the lights shines off different angles of his fur on his visage, since everything is so blackened dark one would hardly spot him in the shades. Yet, the most interesting pieces are some lines of red leather, simple and about a feet long that are stuck on random parts of his clothing. When he walks, they flow and float behind him, creating a strange movement, perhaps it could be seen as a spectre is walking besides you, the bloody straps of leather creating a trace of where this ''ghost'' just passed.

As the worgen rogue reaches the counter, he pulls a chair from the bar. But before he even gets to sit down, a worgen girl, looking quite a tad too young to frequent bars like the Recluse at such late hours sits down next to the crimson rogue. Like the rest of the female attendants of the tavern, she barely wore anything, even those scraps of clothing she had were mostly torn apart, leaning most open for the greedy eyes of the majority of the drunken patrons. She leaned over towards the newly seated arriver, licking her lips seductively as she flutters her eyelashes as pleasing as she could in her boozed state.

''H-hello there handsome..'', she barely manages not to fall of her chair as she leans over and gropes the male's upper arm tightly with her claws in order to hold herself up. This, and the next thing that could be seen was a sharsh slap aimed for the girl's paws holding those of the man. She shrieks and curses for a split moment before she abruptly hits the cold, damp, wooden floor.

''Spare it, wench..'', the bloody-red clothed male speaks. His voice deep and resonating yet subtle enough to make it not so loud, entwingled with the slight growling that's by now easily audible echoing through the hall. A moment of silence falls upon the Blue Recluse as the mob turns their heads towards the origin of the slapping sound. But as they notice the fact it's just a girl recieving a lesson and not a brawl over which they could bet, they quickly return back to their ordinary buisness and forget all about what just happened. Yet the female won't give up, she pulls herself up with the help of the chair she just sat on, flomping down upon it again with her back towards the bartend, arcing her spine to push out and flaunt what little cleavage she owned, of which the vest she wore shown most.

''Cm'on now darling, fill me up on some drinks and I'll allow ye to fill me up in every way ya want to..'', she grins and winks at him, constantly licking her dry lips while tracing a lone claw down her bust and belly. ''Quit it unless I 'ave t'throw ya out meself..'', the male keeps growling at her before looking at the waiter that just returned with another round of empty bottles. ''Tea. Green Leaf.'', he orders and while the waiter turns, the female shouts behind him: ''Make it a flagon o'ale aswell, will ya!''.

The rogue clenches his fists and does not avert his eyes off the bottle-shelf as he mutters in a clam, yet menacginly growling manner: ''Look, one more word an' I swear I'll-..''

''Oh stop it you twit, her drink's on me..'', speaks the classy worgen fellow from before, that's also at the counter and still being assaulted by the draenei, speaks up. ''Don't ya know the only way to shut a worgen's lady's maw is to fill it with something, mate?'', he laughs loudly and turns away from the eredari beauty next to him, facing the worgen female instead. This provides a series of glares from the draenei woman towards the worgen girl, at which she replies with a triumphant smork as she is served her drink. In the same run of the waiter, the leather-wearer recieves his tea and takes it with a nod to the servieur. He starts to swirl it with his spoon in silence, yet he feels the eyes of the bloke upon himself. He looks up at the male, arcing an eyebrow questioningly with a very annoyed look upon his face. The other worgen man opens his maw:

''Tough day to be drinking tea, eh?'', the classy bloke speaks in a mocking manner with a sly grin upon his maw.

''Quitted drinkin' a lon' time ago..'', the crimson fellow answers and goes back to mescolating his alcohol-less brew, trying to ignore the slurping noises the girl next to him was producing while chugging down her own fill.

''Harr, drunken spree an' ye ended up with a cub, laddie?''

''Nae, but it has t'do wit'cubs..'', the rogue replies as he sips his tea.

''Aye, parental duties, hrm?'', the neatly dressed worgen now completely turns towards the tea-drinking male, smiling charmingly.

''That, indeed..'', the rogue nods.

''How many do ya have o'em?'', the male speaks after a brief pause.

''One. He's me life..'', a small smile crawls over the leather-wearer's lips.

''Ey, cubbies. Got two o'me own..'', the man nods in a proud and firm fashion. ''Two girls, tho' only one lives wit'me so far..'', he adds quickly.

''Whut 'appened to t'other gal, eh?'', for the first time, the rogue lifts his gaze, peering at the other worgen over his cup of tea from which he sips.

''Nae idea mate. Ran away when she was a kid.. Always beena rebel, y'know..''

''Aye, aye.. Kids always take t'opposite way, dun 'ey?''

''Y'talk like ya know a lot 'bout it, eh?'', the classy worgen grins.

''Tell me about it..'', the rogue replies with a slight chuckle.

''Ye tell it t'me rather and I'll buy ye another cup o'tea, deal?'', he propositions. The dark male shurgs and takes another sip, before speaking:

''I'm a rogue an' a doctor. I can swing blades, yet me boy makes cakes an' sets the house on fire. An' freezes the pond t'have fun. Or gives chase to the nanny with a fireball..''

''EH-EY! Mage now, is he? Just like me..'', the self-proclaimed worgen mage shouts, slamming one paw onto the counter and ponding his chest a bit with the other.

''I guess y'could call 'im tha', aye.. He's a lil' devil...'', the shady male smiles.

''Wha'? A pyromancer?'', the other bloke raises an eyebrow.

''Nae, nae, frost-weaver. T'kid's cold as ice from Northred..''

''Sod it.. T'world needs more firestarters.. I'm starting t'feel alone lately.'', the magus speaks before sipping some more.

With new shown interest of his own, the assasin-type of the worgen raises his own right eyebrow, muttering in his cup: ''Pyromancer yerself?''

''Harr, nae call me pyromaniac rather!'', the neatly-dressed man switches his from and is now facing the bottle-shelf again, just like the rogue at his right. Thankfully for the said rogue, the worgen teenager that used to sit between them is by now long gone off to another table, trying to seduce more willing men in buying her drinks and take her home.

''Maniac? Harsh words yer usin' laddie..'', the leather-wearer comment.

''Ey, got me nickname fer a reason!'', he laughs heartedly.

''Got more o'em?'', the crimson male asks and finishes his tea.

''Phah! Got many! Spark, blaze, inferno..'', he lists some of his magus nicknames.

''Fire mages..'', the other bloke rolls his eyes and grins.

''Whut?''

''Ye 'ave t'most predictable nicknames o'all..'', the rogue mocks.

''Still. Got one tha's mine only. Kaijuu, the dragoon, an' I'm-..'' Crrrr-CLICK!

Suddenly, the Recluse dropped silent. Barfights, brawls, fistfights, knockouts, slaps.. All of that was mostly good fun. But the sound of a loaded gun ment serious buisness. And right now, a black handgun was held by the rouge, aimed at the head of the mage. The silnce that befell the tavern was choking, nauseous. Each head was turned towards the two males with the gun floating in the rouge's paw between them.

''whut was t'name again..?'', the gun-wielding worgen mutters, his voice trembling with the sudden growling that emitts from his chest ever since the gun was raised.

The other fellow blinks and takes a slow, deep inhale before sighing. ''T'was Kaijuu, now lower this blaster before y'get yerself hurt..'', he speaks with a gentle, calm voice that resonates annoyance at the object he's being pointed at with. One of his claws however starts franticly yet soundlessly scraping the wooden board, that forms the counter.

''Spare it.'', the rogue's claw runs up and down the trigger, his claw forcing a harsh but subtle sound as it is traced over the object that can easily turn the current happening for the worse.

''D'ye kno' of a girl named Ruth, or lateleh Raven..?'', the rogue's eyes finaly detatch themselves off the shelf and look towards the male sitting calmly on his left. That said man also looks towards the fellow that is adressing him with both his words and gun, flashing a wicked grin towards him before answering:

''Well, well, well.. Mister Ripfang.. We meet at last..'', his speaking slowly trascends into evil, low chuckling. The one being called mister Ripfang narrows his eyes, keeping the gun still pointed for the mage's head.

''Kaijui, the dragoon..'', the rogue mutters as he gives off a snarl, his nostrils flaring wildly. Most of the tavern has left already, including the barkeeper himself. The eerie mist left by all the smoking lowers itself, creating a dreadful blanket of smoke, covering the whole Recluse up to the waists of the worgen males that are left sitting alone.

For a few minutes, complete silence falls upon the hall. The lights lit the room clearly now that the smoke is lowered, accentuatin the contrast of the two males. On elbeak, ash-grey while the other sporting a glimmering, clear-black fur. The tension can nearly be gripped and held onto as the gun doesn't even flinch except for the claw that caresses the trigger patiently.

''How's my girl doin', eh?'', finally the mage speaks, his claws stopped scratching the counter, where he had scraped it, he'd cover the spot with his paw carefully. His eyes flicker for a bit and hios right ear straightens up a to attention in order to listen.

''Still a free soul. Still scared of ye..'', he answers with a quite a bitter tone to his growling, deep, gluttural voice. For the first time, his grip visibly tightens upon the gun, his muscles tensing under the tight leather enveloping them.

''Drop the gun mate.. Ye'll only hurt yerself..'', the magus suggests with a slights wave of his paw. As the reply, the stalker puts his fingers upon the trigger, nearly pulling it in a reflext to the movement of the caster's hand.

''Ye dirty basterd..'', he growls at the sighing male.

''I said drop it, I dun want to hurt ye..'', he tries to reason.

''Ya drop it rather, ye arse.'', comes the answer from the growling rogue.

''I mean it, quit it or-'', he snarls before the other male roars out: ''QUIET!'', and a gunblast goes off..

The next few moment were pure chaos at the doorstep of the Blue Recluse. The large crowd that was occupying the insides, happily chatting and drinking, was now muttering lowly about what's going on inside. The ussual happening in the Recluse when there was a gunfight going on was the Syndicate moto: ''I haven't seen anything, I haven't heard anything, I know nothing.'' So when the man pulled out his gun, they all rushed out before becoming eyewitnesses. So right now, it seemed as if there was an angry picnic going on at the happy tavern. Everyone was outside with their mugs, angrily whispering and waitinf for a few gunshots, after which they'd remove the body and could finally go on with their nightly bar routines.

But as soon as the gun was fired, at the same moment, a gout of flame bursts through the door and scorches the pavement, grass and the few unlucky enough to be standing right at the doorway. The shouting and screaming commences, everyone running their own way, trying to save their hides. The few guards taht remained lingering infront of the construction from which the flames sprouted, now gave it a run, realizing that someone would be more appropriate to deal with the now ablaze building.

From the flames a figure dashes. The smoking trail follows it a few meters away from the bar, as the figure stops. The smoke clears slowly off the person, revealing the rogue from before, one paw holding the moking, flaring-red gun, the other pulling one of the leather staps off his shoulder over his eyes. A few parts of his attire are scorched, the flame burnt even some of his fur over his paws and hind paws and a small line of smoke floats off his left cheek, yet without visible burns. His eyes flare at the radiance of the flames, his gaze transfixed upon the entrance of the Blue Recluse.

Slowly, a dark pressence appears in the midst of the flames. It gradually grows bigger in sight as it nears the door, it shines yet remains darkened in the embrace of the dancing fires.

''Now look what ye made me do..'', the other form speaks as he steps from the fire. The frame between the flames is ofcourse the ashen worgen, coming out of the ignited inferno completely unharmed, even his clothes remain perfectly ironed as they were back then when both of them sat at the counter, chatting and drinking. ''Of all the places I wish to see burning THIS ONE!, is not on that list..'' The worgen magus growls, a growl deepa dn resonating that echoes throughout the square infront of the Recluse. The square itself was round and grassy, a high tower erected in the middle of it, standing above the rooftops of the buildings that surround the square on which the smoking rogue was standing. The said rogue coughs once, a puff of smoke escaping from between his jaws as it quickly gets absorbed by the bigger cloud of ashed air that's forming from the burning enough, none of the fires would spread further on, as if the fires were confined by an invisible force soliely on the bar. Slowly, the wizard steps out of the flames, now again standing in somewhat clear air and sight. Even though his form is now free of the fire, his paws are still ignited and brightly ablaze while his claws twitch and curl slowly with random, sudden, quick moves. His face radiates annoyance and anger. Gone is the calm and eased expression, replaced by a grimace of ash that's falling from the sky seems to be drawn to the pyromancer, turning towards him as he grins wider, his fangs glimmering in the smoke, like a beacon to the eye of insanity. The ashes seep lower and lower until they start to swirl. Slowly at first, but soon afterwards, the invisible wind carrying the smoldered particles picks up, an ashen barrier forming around him, again, only his glowing eyes and teeth could be seen, as a deep growl is emitted from the centre. ''Cower now, Reiar Ripfang, of the Underbelly, for you face The Dragoon..''.

The rogue narrows his eyes and pulls up a hand, coveing his eyes a bit at the mess that's forming infront of his very eyes. The man made a windy tunnel of ash around himself, the force by now can be felt, like if there was a harsh wind twisting itself around the pyromancer, the spiral of grey condensing so fast and tight that any attempt at rushing throught would probably result in a few nasty cuts and no gain. The assassin waited, patiently holding his ground as he beholds the sight that's unfurling. The darkened tornado is by now bigger than the tower itself, tearing off some of the bricks that cover it's roof, sending them flying in random directions over the city and in some of the windows around the Mage Quarter.

The Reiar notes the mage raise his flaming paws, even though the only thing he can surely see is a pair of sparks in the middle of the ashed torrent of death. In a sudden move, the mage slams his paws into the ground, the sparks dissapearing before the said caster yells: ''Buuurn!''

The next thing all of Stormwind could see was a firely tornado being blasted in the middle of the Mage Quarder. It towered even the mage tower itself, painting the shining white cement from which it was built black from all the heat, the purple roof bricks would glow a dark, bloody red thanks to the fierly light that shone over them. After the view, a blast-wave follows, a heat-wave right after that. The infernal mass twists and bends for the sight of all on-lookers, hending shocked gasps and shrieks of panic throughout the capital of the Alliance.

''In the inferno, noone hears your cry..'', a subtle, yet menacing whispers echoes through the mage quarter, clearly the voice of the man called Kaiju.

''In the inferno, noone cares if you die..'', his chuckle is heard after that.

The rogue stood still in his initial place where he was before hell itself was released. He beholds the monstrosity with his constantly narrowed eyes. They form a line of pale, blue light in the fiery surroundings, making it the only thing that could distinguish him from the rest of the blazing fury going on around him. He lowers his paw that was protecting his eyes, snorting once, before speaking in a stern, still, firm manner: ''Then steady your lungs, for you're about to shout..''

''Bold yet useless..'', the magus speaks. The torrent of fire now nearly encasing all of the mage quarter in it's wake, the once small dots pointing out Kaijuu's eyes and fangs are now grown, as if a tremendous, gigantic grinning face was peering downwards upon the leather-wearer in the midsts of all that's going on. It peers at him, as the voice sounds again: ''I'll burn you away like I've burn houndreds, and then I'll be taking me daughter back..'', the huge grin widens.

''Come an' try basterd..'', Reiar speaks as he crouches to a readied stance, his paws held up and ready for defense. The tormenting face opens it's maw, showing blazing-white fangs as the torrent of flames expands in a quick movement, the mouth of the fiery beast aiming to swallow the rogue with it's blazing jaws. At the same time the tornado engulfs the whole main square of the Mage District, the structure of swirling heat encasing every strutcture in a deathly embrace of fire. Inside the charred madness, the grinning visage is just inches away from the rogue, the grinning fangs of fire chuckling and crackling in deligjt as the black fur upon Reiar's face is blown left and right mercilessly. The strong winds created by the swirling mass of blazes ruffles and pulls at the worgen's manes, making them flurry about in fury. Yet the rogue's expression remains as calm as ever.

''Cm'on.. Run.. I dun want to kill me own son-in-law..'', the fiery eyes beholding Reiar widens as an eerie laugh echoes between the buildings that are by now trapped in the burning hell-scape. The flame-caster holds up his paws as they go ablaze again. He points a burning claw towards Reiar, his eyes flickering and shimmering with fire-lit madness while he chuckles with his shining teeth. ''Now scoot.. Dun make me burn ye..'', he growls at his direction with a menacing grin.

The crimson worgen stays still. He stands to an upright stance, suddenly seeming a bit taller thanks to his ussual crooked pose. He coughs once, still some smoke trailing down his maw and chin. ''Heh..'', he grin. And darts.

In the blink of an eye he goes for a sprint towards the mage, running low at speed that surpasses the flight of birds. He readies his paws up, only to use them to hold himself on his feet as he dashes to his left for a few feet, dodging a fiery projectile that just sprouted from the ignited claw of the worgen that caused hell to break loose. The said magus grins and a few brighter sparks dance around his paw before another bolt is sent Reiar's way. The rogue narrows his eyes and shifts his body towards the right, bending his spine backwards to avoid the fireball, dodging it just barely. The mass collides with a building behind the rogue, busting into destruction instantly. Bricks and pieces of glass are sent flying in different directions as the heatwave goes off and over the square, ruffling both males's manes for good measure with it's force, feeding the flames that conquer the surroundings with more air to devour.

Using the blast of the infernal forcewave, the rogue goes into the run again. Sprinting towards the mage, he extends his claws to their full reach and lunges himself at the fellow that, at seeing this slams his paws into the ashen ground beneath himself with a devilish grin. In response, he recieves a smirk from the rogue, under which flames erupt from the ground upwards, engulfing the leathered figure in their devouring embrace. Not a moment later, the pillar of flame twists and swirls in a hazed move before evaporading suddenly, revealing the rogue inside as he spins on one hindpaw, using the other to add to the furious spinning. The wizard blinks at the same moment the rogue stops and using the force created by the spinning that dispersed the flames, lunges a small dagger aimed at Kaijuu.

A roar echoes a second later, revealing the mage with his hand raises over his chest. The hand is enveloped in molten lava, covering most of his lower hand in magmatic armor in which the dagger is stuck. With a loud snarl the magus grips the dagger and pulls it out. There, upon the dagger, a small black spot can be seen. That spot being incinerated blood, cauterized when the dagger was pulled throught the layer of smoldering lava.

''Right.. Yer dead now..'', Kaijuu speaks before dropping the dagger and extending his paws towards both his left and right side. His face grimaces as his maw cringes. The ashes under him get agitatet, starting to circle and raise themselves onto and around the caster. They move beneath his paws again as he stands there, in the form of a cross, growling and cringing as he trembles. The rogue refuses to wait and sprints for the mage, trying to close the gap between them before his opponent gets the chance to finish whatever spell he's conjuring up.

''Five more steps, four more, three, cm'on, cm'on..!'', Reiar's thoughts race as he nearly reaches the man. Yet in the same moment he's just a few feet away from the cross-formed worgen, the said bloke slams his paws togeather in a deafening clap. All the can see is the wizards eyes flare with a sudden brink of infernal insanity, before everything goes dark and grey.

The rogue pulls his paws upwards to shield his eyes again, the sudden storm of ashes and cinders shrouding the square infront of the Recluse again. He tries to peer from under his arm to contain atleast some control of what's going on around himself. Nothing can be seen as the fray of grey and bleak storms over the square. It's thankfully not the ashen tornado that happened earlier, but rather a concentrated chaotic mist of swirling ashes that stick to the square, causing havoc and panic to anybody close enough, sending sunning some of the bravest, left only a few onlookers beholding the unwinding of the phenomenal event.

Inside the darkened sphere, the rogue struggles to regain his lost footing. With a few harsh stomps on the ground, he roars an echoing cry to the skies as he lowers his paws to his sides with his eyes tightly closed shut. He remains still, opposing the grey windy torrents with his posture and willpower stoicly. Slowly, he takes a step forward in the unseeing fray, his claws shredding tiny lines of clean air as the suffocating madness rages between them, is fur starting to lighent up a shade of color thanks to all the charred ashen material that was left upon his face and paws. After a few feet of his slow stride, he hears a slight hum, that afterwards quickly echoes into an audible laughter. An instant later he feels a breeze of warm air envelop his cheeks and he barely manages to duck down before something blazing hot flies above his head.. Reiar snarls and picks himself up in no time, this time recieving the feeling of warmth upon the back of his neck. He turns around and crosses his arms over his chest in a deffensive position, yet shoots his eyes wide open as a mass of what seems like very deep, dark red flames cricles above him, right before it dives for the standing worgen. Reiar can only tighten his paws to his chest and lower his head while roaring out in pain, the fiery monstrosity hidden in the shady mist blasting in him, sending the rogue fellow flying across the square, the ashen particles in the hurricane of darkness tearing a few nasty cuts in his paws and maw as he collides with the ground abruptly.

He uses the impact upon his back so that he just rolls over onto his hindpaws, panting as his mane smokes thick with a few new burns upon it, his chin smoldered a bit while he peers infront of himself.

''Well, well, you're not so smart anymore, eh?'', the infernal thing seems to speak in a voice that clearly immitates that of the fire mage from before. The mist seems to slowly brighen up, as the flamed creature soars and seems to land upon the top of the burned, still on fire tavern.

As the ashen smoke clears, Reiar's eyes go wide in shock and disbelief. Atop the infernal construction, Kaijuu stands, with his grin wide and his paws everburning. But that is not the burning mass he saw before. The massive fiery colliding mass would be, to Reiar's agonizing disturbance, a pair of collossal wings upon the mage's back. They're not ussual wings, instead they shine with burning brightness that envelops the whole square with it's head whenever they flutter in a long, heaving swing. The wings are a majestic monstrosity to be seen, what would seem to be the bones are actually ashes condensated into thich, strong, hard poles that closely resemble bones actually and where the wing's skin should be, fire burns everlasting. The fire itself is a shade darker than the ussual flames that have captivated the mage quarter when Kaijuu decided to let loose his torrent of fire. Like this, the worgen caster stands, his behemothic wings batting away at the air as he chuckles with his grinning maw, beholding down upon Reiar with eyes signaling madness and power. He again extends his paws to their sides, right and left, before expanding his wings to their full extent.

Afterwards, he screams, or well, roars.

The deafening, maddening roar can be heard throught Stormwind city. The citizens shake, quickly glancing towards the two burnt towers, thinking for a split second it's the same noise they heard when Deathwing appeared upon the gates of Stormwind.

In the meantime, as we know, the two males look upon eachother. It's hard to decide whose eyes shine more, be it the blazing-red eyes of the winged worgen, as they blend with the infernal background perfectly, or Reiar's blue celestial eyes, that can be spotted between the fires like two beacons of light and calm. Minutes pass as the two men just look at eachother, the only audible sound would be the booming noise of the wings that bash the air back and forth with their tremendous power.

''This is your last warning from a dragon..'', Kaijuu speaks, his voice filled with a deep growling sound that reverbeates throughout the air.

Reiar narrows his eyes, the tension can nearly be gripped and held as they stare at eachother for another set of silent minutes, the fires crackling in the background, adding to the insufferable feeling of despair and agony in air.

Reiar takes a quick breath and with his exhale, he mutters back: ''I'll kill ye, if it's t'last thing I do b'fore I sod off this existence..'', he closes his eyes. ''I'll make ye feel pain thousandfolded of that ye caused to Raven!'', he sprungs his eyes open and gazes right into those of the wizard. Kaijuu, arces an eyebrow and scoffs. ''Ye've got no right t'claim her, son-in-law..'', he comments.

Reiar narrows his eyes and snarls baring his teeth with raising his paws and claws aswell. ''Leave 'er alone an' I'll let ye go alive..''

Laughing, the wizard shakes his head. ''T'is not me that's in danger here.. Ye should worry more about yer future an' yer life.. Son-in-law..''

''Stop callin' me yer son-in-law.. Yer not family o'mine!'', he shouts. ''Make me..'', Kaijuu winks back tauntingly at the leathered male.

The rogue roars out, clearly this went over his limits and he psrints to the burning Blue Recluse. The winged mage grins and his wings straighten up to attention. The glaming wings start expanding and growing. Reiar canfeel ashen particles seep around him and head towards Kaijuu as the dusky bones of the wings grow and elongate, the ashes hardening and prolonging the stricture of the blazing airfoiles as the flames follow their lead, growling and burning with a new-found intensity.

The already collosal wings are by now toweing, expanded like this they can easily reach from one end of the rooftop to the other in a gigantic, fiery expanse.

In all this awe, Reiar the monstrosity expand before his eyes. He holds his eyes narrowed and his stance at the ready. In the moment his wings stop growing, Kaijuu raises them and with a single massive flutter downwards, he shoots himself in the air. Reiar looks up as in a single leap, the winged psycopath eludes the sight of any untrained eye. At the peak of his jump, Kaijuu opens his wings again as they starts to erupt fire, making them seem even bigger thanks to that blazing halo that started appearing around the fire conjurer thanks to the masses of flames and blisters converging around the said wizard.

By the time Kaijuu is easily visible again, the ring of fire enveloping him makes him look an angel of hatred and madness, descenting from the infernal heavens of the sun itself.

''Flee, before I turn ye upside-down with a single word..'', the infernal harbringer speaks.

''Ye jus' used 'bout ten, an' I'm still here..'', the grounded male replies.

''Dun dare me..'', the alated wizard snarls back.

''Come on then!'', Reiar snaps his jaws in his direction as a challenging taunt.

Kaijuu roars out once more and with all his infernal glory at his back darts downwards in a tremendous skyfall. His wings unfold to their absolute potential, making the square go red again and painting the roofs in crimson flames. Reiar responds with a grinning roar of his own, readying his paws like he did before any encounter. As the wizard scorches the air through with he flies, Reiar closes his lef eye, right before being struck by the blazing projectiled demon. In the moment they clash, both their roars echo through the city streets and outskirts, reverbating onwards in the Elwynn Woods. As their forms collide, the flames from the mage's wings explode, sending fire in every direction to blind anyone to the even that unfurled in between the two in the moment of the collision.

A few ferocious explosion and blasts passed, before the burning sphere clears witha final burst of force. Right in the middle of the clearing that the fight caused, the two males would be standing muzzle-to-muzzle, both grinning and glaring at eachother as they held paws. One could easily mistake them for dances thanks to their perfect foot placing and twisted stances, was it not for their claws digging in eachother's opponent's paws. They spend a few more seconds wrestling silently and still, before Kaijuu's eyes shoot wide open and he snarls, his paws suddenly going ablaze. The falmes encase Reiar's claws aswell and he yelps, jerking his arms wildly to get out of the mage's heated grip. He succeeds with a brutal twist of his wrists, finally hopping away from the fire-caster, his paws leaving a trail of smoke behind him.

With his own paws still in flames, Kaijuu laughs at Reiar, mocking him with a shake of his head. As the rogue blows the remaining cinders off his paws, the mage taunts him from a far:

''Ye cabbit fight against me arsenal, assassin..'', the male grins devilishly. ''I've got weapons no shield or armor can stop..''

With a slight chuckle, Reiar pulls out a small can from a pocket and unclips the safety pin. ''I've not used any weapons of me own yet..'', he replies with a smirk.

As Kaijuu raises an eyebrow, Reiar slams the can into the ground beneath him. ''Darkness won't help you now..'', he proclaims before his figure get enveloped in smoke. The smoke curtain small, barely able to hide Reiar completely, yet dense, not a single flicker of light passing through. The wizard scoffs, snarling out: ''The smoke screen seems to have failed ye..''

But as soon as he speaks, a whirling dervish of black and blue smoke spins forward in Kaijuu's general direction. It dars in a zig-zag manner, left and right, with a set trajectory for the fiery male. The mage only manages to widen his eyes. ''Huh? What the..'', and fold his fierly wings around himself, yet when the black and blue smoking mass hits him he roars out in clear pain. He backs off, trying to evade the hellspawn, yet the smoke dashes and dances elegantly over and around to the back of the wizard and slams itself in his wings and back, before bouncing upwards and landing on the roof of the Recluse where Kaijuu was initaly standing. The wizard staggers and slowly regains back his footing. A clear, clean wound can be seen upon his forearms and a wing seems to have been broken downwards in a rough yank. He turns around and looks up to the rooftop of the now ashen tavern. The ashes themselves get agitated again, but this time they follow the dark smoke that jumped unwards onto the roof where it clears off, revealing Reiar standing there, just being.. Entirely different.

The sight would be majestic. Reiar would be standing there, his face a grinning reflection of hate and anger, his eyes wide open, a mirror of blue, sky-azure deathly professionalism itself when coming to what was about to happen and has been happening for the last hour or so. He would be equipped differently, too. His armor would now be a set of dark, tight-fitting leathery suit and pants, across which lines of golden and blue would be draped. A matching mandle would be draped over his back, aswell in black and gold. His shoulders a line of four spikes, also in black and blue, sporting a set of hanged jewels each. With all the dark and marine contrast, his blue eyes are accentuated out of his blackened head even more thanks to his fur, gazing over Kaijuu with a profoundness so deep it would nearly seem that his visage is outworldly. Wthe new leathers seems to fit his form perfectly, showing his lithe and agile form even more with the new tightness.

At seeing this, Kaijuu closes his eyes and explodes in maniacal laughter. He trashes his body in bellowing cheers, shouting at the dark sky:

''Finally! I get to see ''the Stalker of the Underbelly'' at last..'', he grins and chuckles at the now dark-leathered male. ''Look well, it might be the last thing ye'll ever see..'', Reiar speaks as he stands up and straightens his form, being as majestic and behemothing as ever upon the rooftop. In such a stance in such armor and upon such a high place, one could easily say his visage was taht of a noble, was it not for who he really was.

''The debt must be paid.. You owe me yer life fer takin' away Raven's happiness.. An' I WILL 'ave it..''

''COME ON THEN! Bring it yer motherless, packless basterd..'', Kaijuu snarls.

Reiar slowly pulls out two daggers from his flanks. They shine with dark, fresh blood that probably came off Kaijuu's paws. He raises them, the daggers a dark-blue metal with an aquamarine coating that was probably posion. One side being as thin and sharp as a razor's edge, the other one jagged to rip flesh from bone.

He slowly proceeds to lift his right one, closing his left eye again, only to exclaim slowly, in a silent whisper that can however be heard all throughout the square.

''Silence. For those who have nothing to say.''

He then raises his left dagger.

''Justice. For those that have said too much.''

Lowering both of them, he opens his eye, both blue orbs glaring down at Kaijuu.

''Tonight, both will be sated. Tonight, you'll pay their tribute..''

Another roaring laughter echoes throught the streets of Stormwind, a maddening crackle bursting from Kaijuu as he pants in order to catch his breath. He holds his belly as he keeps up, Reiar still standing there and bursts into laughs again.

''Stopped playin', did we finally? Come on alreadeh, show me whut yer petty syndicate can muster!'', he chuckles, taunting Reiar with a smirk.

''You'll get more than ye bargain fer..'', the dark rogue replies, to which the mage lifts a paw, beckoning Reiar to start in a taunting motion.

Again, Reiar slowly closes his left eye, before dissappearing in a straight-forward jump off the roof. He dashes overhead Kaijuu, stopping right above the male before going for a skydive.

''Mistake..'', Kaijuu mutters as he crouches, digging his claws in the ground. He yanks them towards the sky as he stands up swiftly and along dirt flying in the air, a torrent of flame is awakened and aimed in such a way that Reiar would get caught in it while falling.

The assassin grins and shifts his body so that the flamestrike hits his square in the flank and side. He roars out as smoke and flames engulf his left flank, but using the boost of the thrusting blast of the flaming force, he makes a roll mid-air and keeps on rolling. The wizard's grin drops instantly as he beholds the black swirling rogue falling against him. ''Bugger..'', he mutters with a frown before lifting his paws, barely in time to collide the rogue against them.

Kaijuu can be heard screaming again.

Reiar would still be upon him, using both his daggers stuck in the man's paws, piercing through the newly-summoned magmatic armor.

The rogue pushes himself off the male using his own daggers as support for the leap, therefore deepening the stab. Kaijuu closes his eyes in ahonizing pain, opening them just to see Reiar making another swift turn in his leap, spinning around to bring his daggers in an uppercut towards the mage's face.

...blood flew and everything afterwards was merely screaming for a few minutes, Reiar listening with a stern face along a satisfied smirk. He suffered.

Patiently, the bladedancer waits as the bloodied wizard roars and trashes about, keeping his face stone-cold and emotionless afterwards, unmoved at the roars of the other worgen male.

Upon closer inspection in the midsts of the flailing Kaijuu caused, one could spot a neat and straight cut wound running from the tip of his chin and upwards over his cheek. The said magus grips the side of his face and screams in agony, his eyes tightly shut. Flames erupt around the man, blazing and twisting at the power of the wizard that cannot control it under the affect of the gripping pain he suddenly felt.

''Whut is this? This ain' normal cuttin', this is excrutiatin'!'', Kaijuu snarls, blood still dripping down his face, onto his robes and the floor beneath.

Lifting a dagger, Reiar speaks: ''Punishment. A poison o'me own design. No long-term effect, jus' instant pain and torture..'', as he slowly drags a claw over the razor of one of his daggers. ''Saornite salt-mines in t'Storm Peaks..'' Quite hard t'find..'', he adds with a devilish grin.

With a loud roar, Kaijuu stabs a paw and it's claws in his abdomen, panting through grinning fangs madly as he lowers his bloodied paw infront of himself as it shakes, fresh, glimmering, crimson blood falling in droplets to the ground, just to be caught in a small stream of fire that rises from underneath the pavement of the square in the mage quarter, rising and convulsing in Kaijuu's grip. He starts to chuckle as the stream of flame forms a floating orb os fire, hoovering at the mage's paw. Slowly, he pulls his claws out of his chest, placing the same paw above the burning sphere. When his blood drips down onto the internal orb it slowly turns into a deeper shade of red, as it looks like the sphere is stretching from the inside-out. Kaijuu locks both his paws around it and grins. ''Lemme give ya a taste of yer own medicine..'', he whispers audibly, closing his eyes.

''Incarnal flames..'', the wizard speaks and opens up his paws withas abrupt in hale. As the orb stays afloat, he roars out at it and fire bursts from his maw, engulfing the said flaming ball, suddenly sending it dissapearing, as if it was formed out of cinders while they fly and dissapear into thin air. He grins as he takes another deep sigh, before starting to cackle lowly.

''You're about to experience the true meaning of pain..'', the mage whispers. Reiar blinks at him, tilting his head with his fangs at clear display.

''See, I realized yer right eye is yer stron' sense.. Ye always close yer left one beofre going fer real.. So I'll make sure ye can't use yer right-sided sight any more..'', he suddenly clenches his fists shut tight. ''BURN!''

Reiar blinks. ''Whut t'soddin'..'', is all he can mumble before he feels a stinging pain in his right eyesocket. In an instant, his right eye is shot ablaze and he screams in panic, something he didn't expect at all. He trashes around and around, roaring, gripping around his brining eye while the pyromaniac laughts heartedly.

''Beautiful! Magnificent! Yes, yes, scream! Let my ultimate creating devour your from inside out!'', Kaijuu speaks while chuckling as Reiar fights with his own burning eye, screaching and cringing, digging his claws in his face, controtded by agony and pain, blood spurting in two reddened streams from his socket when smoke starts to rise from the rogue's face. He keeps flailing about a bit, right before, with a final scream, digs his claws deep into his socket, pulling out his own eye. Yet as the eyeball hits the ground, a metallic sound emitts from the impact, and Kaijuu only blinks in awe at the object, then up at Reiar with a maw that falls open at the sight.

Before him stands Reiar, tall and straight with a look on his face that could easily resemble death. His eyesocket, though burns and black and smoking from the fires that caught it is mostly intact, as if it was.. Empty all along. Upon a closer look, the object on the ground that was supposed to be Reiar's right eye is just a fake, metallic eye, a bit black from the flames that caught in it from inside itself. Reiar's face would be stern, but not stern like before. No.. This time, his face expression radiated like the anger of the burning the surrondings mirrored, it reflected the hatred he grew towards the male infront of him.. It resembled the inevitable..

''What was that? Wha-?! How did ya do that?! How can this be!'', Kaijuu screams as he tries to realize what just happened, gripping his head in panic, to which Reiar can only reply with a cold, emotionless stare.

''Some of us made sacrifices..'', he takes a step towards Kaijuu..

''Some of us gave ourselves..'', another one..

''Some of us protected her..'', and another one echoes down the square of the mage quarter.

..moments pass as Kaijuu stares in wide awe and fear at Reiar, starting to sweat madly..

''I've held her..'', Reiar growls, nearing Kaijuu more and more..

''I've given up everything for her..'', he snarls out with another foot placed onwards.

''I've mated and married her..'', he now is right before the awe-struck Kaijuu.

...he slowly starts raising a paw towards the collar of the magus..

''I've sworn to protect her..'', he speaks lowly..

''I've sworn to be hers..'', he slowly clenches his fist around the cloth.

''I've sworn to avenge her..'' he pulls Kaijuu closer.

..Kaijuu grips the rogue's arm, but cannot compete in brute force with him..

''You'll dissapear..'', Reiar snarls in his muzzle.

''You'll go away and never return..'', he presses his nose against his.

''You'll.. LEAVE HER AAALOONEEE!''

Reiar bursts out in a deafening howl in Kaijuu's face.

The fire-conjurer screams back in fear and as the maw parts, a gushing torrent of flame shooting outwards and shrouding Reiar's face in the infernal fires. Even though he is now covered in the constant stream of flames, he keeps screaming and roaring at the man, before lunging a paw and it's extended claws towards the man's belly. A swishing sound is hear.. And the noise the flames from the wizard's mouth made is heard no more..

The scene is devastation in it's absolute meaning. The burning houses start collapsing, the grass and trees still flicker with sudden flames, the air filled with smoke, dust and ash.

In the middle of it all, two figures stand. The two males from before, one with a burnt face and the other with blood running clear down his belly. The rogue, the one holding the other person lets him go as the wizard hits the ground abruptly, coughing up a great deal of his vital body fluid, crimson flashing. The flames would conceal their looks, only shades visible. The wizard can be seen kneeling on both his legs, coughing up more and more blood as the rogue stumbles backwards, gripping his own belly as he coughs madly aswell.

''T'hell wit'ye an' her..'', Kaijuu speaks, more coughing follows.

''We're livin' it alreadeh..'', Reiar replies.

Slowly, a portal opens behind the wizard as he waves a paw a bit and mutters some incantations, standing up feebishly upon his hindpaws. He coughs up another spit of crimson-dark blood, before falling backwards towards his own portal.

Reiar notices him phasing through the rift and before anything can be done, he aims a small throwing dagger at the wormhole between spaces.

..the portal closes, and neither Kaijuu nor the dagger can be found anywhere nearby..

As Reiar collapses upon his knees, he can hear a deep, annoyed voice speak up from behind him.

''Y'know that t'Syndicate won't cover this, right?''

''Aye, I do..'', the rogue replies before nearly collapsing, a small, dwarven figure catching him underneath swiftly.

''Hell.. Ye put on sum weight Stoneclaw..'', the dwarf adds cockily, before starting to walks off into the smoking streets of Stormwind.

''Aye, aye..'', Reiar can reply, rolling his eyes.

''Did ya really have to burn up t'Recluse? Ye kno' that ale is precious..'', the dwarf sighs as he stumbles with the heavy load upon his broad, thick shoulders.

''Since when can I cast fire..?'', Reiar grunts back at him with a sigh.

''Since when do ya pick up random fights, ey? Ye never were the type t'go 'round an' stabby-stabby folks fer t'sake.. I thought ye were more professional, me boy..'', the shortie snickers.

With a deep growl, Reiar replies: ''T'was not random..''

''Oh? Reasons? Buisness or personal?'', the dwarf asks further.

''The second one.'', Reiar nods.

''Tsk. Unprofessional indeed.'', the short man shakes his head.

''Shut it, or I'll start countin' the times I've saved ye from drunken brawls..''

''Phah! As if I ever needed any help in them! Plus, it was stricktly because of bets. So t'was buisness. Absolutely buisness.'', the dwarf nods firmly.

''Sure.. Dun make me start with Duskwood..''

''Oi.. Dun go there. Tha' was once.'', the shorter fellow snorts.

''Brewfest?''

''They asked fer it..''

''Felwoo-''

''Alright, alright, shut up.. Let's say we're even now.. Ye can't even walk now, I can atleast walk when I'm drunk..'', the dwarf scoffs.

''Sure ya can..'', Reiar replies with a smirk, closing his eyes.

..and so, with idle banter and happy chatter, the two figures, the smaller carrying the taller, stride off into the mist the fires created and dissapear out of sight in the ashes..

The end


	2. Memory of Murder and Malice

**Memory of Murders and Malice**

It's not we who choose where our lives will go. We're all born into this world with a destiny which was pre-setted for us. Who can say a beggar's son and a price are both their own masters? It's simple logic that makes us realize that. Free will? Decisions? A fool's tool to make the peasant feel royal. Our paths are strictly determined as are our lives, our emotions, our beliefs. There's not such thing as choosing and two different options or more. There's one way only, and one has to stick to that as much as possible. For if one is to forget that at any given time and dare to thread off the given path, he'll die.

...such were the words Reiar thought as he took a deep sigh. He inhales, feeling the cold breeze of the nightly hour amidst the streets of Stormwind, as it rushed past his muzzle, enveloping his face in a gentle caress. It was in that single moment that the worgen teenager thought he was free. That the world was not a cruel place and perhaps.. Just by a single chance, somewhere among these walls and roof-tops was a spot ment for him.

..but with the chilling breeze came the bitter odour that woke Reiar up from his inexistend moment of peace. The stench of blood fills his nostrils, making them flare instantaneously as his eyes shoot wide open.

His chest pounds with his heart beating, pumping a constant rush of blood that causes him to shake his head in order to drop off the ringing drumming inside between his ears. He blinks at the sky, before turning his gaze downwards, upon the shaking body of the noble.

He has done it. The man's chest was spurting out a rythmic stream of blood, as it ebbed down his chest and over Reiar's paw. The said paw, was holding a small dagger which was deeply jabbed in the said chest of the noble man. The noble's face was pale as death's cold hand that was gripping his throat, the blood leaving his body completely through the cut he suffered upon his chest at the hands of the worgen boy.

A cry rings out of the mouth of the noble man, before his body goes completely limp. Reiar knew his target well, as he knew even more about the places one needs to hit and cut in order for a quick death. His dagger stroke with precision, making sure withing a matter of moments, both the male's thighs, neck and chest were bleeding furiously. Without anything to add, he twisted his dagger, making sure to rip open his polmons, just to make sure, as he was always told, before leaving the body collapse to the ground with an abrupt, unmistakable sound of flesh colliding with the stoned pavement of the City.

Only a few feet away, a woman's shriek screeches towards the sky and through the streets of Stormwind. Ofcourse there would be panic, it was not every day that one of the richest men in Stormwind would get killed infront of the Pig and Whistle bar. Impossible, the majority might say? You certainly cannot kill a royal man while he's being escorted with quite a company of his own right at the doorstep of the most notorious tavern in the whole of Stormwind!

..how very, very untrue, as Reiar proved. It was easy to manipulate the attention of lowly commoners. Each twingle, each slight sound and movement made their eyes trace off his target. A small smoke-bomb upon the roof, to avert the eyes of the curious and a clang of two coins thrown at the boxes at the entrance, to get the attention of the greedy. That was all Reiar needed and in less then a second, he was already standing behind the male as the old, to him well too known smell of blood started filling the air around the crowd.

As the body laid lifeless, the attendants froze for the majority, while some of them started shouting and flailing their arms about, crying out for help and the guard. Reiar was somewhy grateful that none of them didn't pull out any of their own equipment, not really being in the mood for a civilian slaughter. He straightened his back, taking another deep inhale as he watches his surroundings with a close eye. He stood there, facing the bar. On his right, there was already a pair of armored guards rushing to where he was, while on his left side, a crowd was already forming, making it nearly impossible for the set of four guards to pass through them, as they tried to reach the spot of the ''incident'' as soon as possible. Reiar nearly closed his eyes again, but he knew that if he'd done that, he might get another nostaliga attack, longing for that sweet feeling of freedom.

The said person called Reiar was, as already told, a worgen. The typical features of the feral race visibly shown upon this character aswell, the crooked stance as if always ready to either pounce or sprint off into a run on all fours. He was clearly young, barely looking above the age of 18 if not less. Like any other worgen who was not recently caught in a fire, his body was covered in fur. But, this particular fellow had a strange kind of fur. His coat was that of a black night's sky, without one single star to light up the darkness. It was as if he was just one single mass of black energy, only that this said energy had mass and form. Indeed, his fur was black, yet with a shine that would make a queen want to skin him alive and wear his fur only on the rarest occasions of all. It looked groomed and taken care of, yet clearly the dark shine natural. It looked soft and warm, nearly one coud say fluffy and fuzzy at the touch, giving him an approachable look. His said black, soft fur covered all of his form.

His face was one of a typical youngster. Soft features with a bit of a sharp edge here and there, giving off the clear sight that the worgen was indeed a rogue, young yet keen and experienced at what his line of work expected from him. His eyes were his most stunning feature, shining blue, like a crystal-clear lake reflecting the moonlight at night. The two orbs indeed, placed in the middle of his face and muzzle that just as the rest of the worgen was covered in pitch-black fur, gave off the impression they were they were a pair of moons, trapped in the middle of the black, empty space. If only it was not for the shine Reiar's fangs have off whenever they could be seen, one might say his eyes were the only thing that could be seen perfectly in the midsts of the black fur.

His fangs were a masterpiece for themselves. His maw was mostly kept closed, but whenever he parted it, rows of pearly white fangs sparkled inside. Their sharp, pointy ends made it a clear statement that whoever tried to get near without his consent would most likely feel his teeth rip his skin off the bone like butter. That, or get caught in the grip of Reiar's claws, which were placed onto his paws, their edgy appearance shooting off the light at various angles, making sure to emphasise the fact that those claws were made for.. well, clawing.

All-in-all, the youth was a nice sight to look upon. Constantly smirking, as if always having something on his mind, he attracted many girl's eyes and stares, though ignoring the majority, knowing best than to dabble with each needy gal that roamed the great City. To contrast his smooth and shiny form thought, was his rugged outfit.

All entirely made out of leather, it fitted his lithe and slender form cladly. A black dark leather jacket clang to his chest, scruffed and with cuts placed all over it's surface, making it look as if either he was wearing the jacket for a life-time, or he just managed a marathon sprint through a raging battle field. Or perhaps both. Underneath the jacket a black shirt could be seen, always unclasped wide open, with wider sleeves than the ussual, finishing just above his wrists. Upon the said wrists, a pair of bracelets were spotted, that seemed as if made from a mixture of mail and leather. Little did the majority know that it was a duo of needle-racks, two tight bracers which carried about 20 needles each for the worgen to use at any practice he might undergo. The same, dark, black leather used for his pants that snug onto his thighs tightly, leaving the worgen barefeet though. Again, with subtlety in mind, he realized it was for the best not to trust any leather or rubber or metal upon his soft paw-pads. Nature works in mysterious way, and with this fellow, it certainly knew what he needed. Stealth, silent moves and a body formed for such action. Mother Nature certainly did her best at that.

Around the said worgen lad though was by now a crowd of curious on-lookers. They all clung to their jaws and gasped, muttering dissaproving words and accusations towards the rogue.

..fools. Morons. Cretins. Nothing more than a flock of lambs for the daily slaughter sent their way, Reiar thought to himself. Yet still, they would serve their part in his plan, he told himself as he took a deep breath, before starting to count quickly.

..ten. Ten guards in the midsts of the crowd, six of them already at his face and sides while the rest still fought their way through the masses of curious citizens. Eyeing the present forces of law, Reiar understood this will be no matter his claws could handle. They all wore heavy plated armor, with thick, broad shields and bastard swords that looked as if they can easily do a nasty cut up his chest. He lowers his paws to his main daggers, pulling them off his flank and raising them.

With a sigh, the rogue boy spins in a piruette, making it look as if a massive spinning toy of the color black is spinning on the said spot. Suddenly, a pair of guards and civilians start screaming and cringing. Once Reiar stop, it is clear he is holding his wrist wrapping, though they are now hanging from his clenched paws. He drops them to the ground and takes a deep breath, before his maw flashes in a mad, frenzied grin. Blood was in the air agian and this time, it was the blood of many, not just one.

Looking around, each person tath screamed a few second before would now have one or more needles stuck somewhere in their form. Thanks to everyone wearing nothing more than simple clothing or leathery attires, the needles stuck deep in their flesh, from where blood would start to suddenly seep. Each move the victims of the needle volley would send another jolt of pain and agony through their bodies, making sure they needed their neighbours to hold them up before they'd collapse, even though some still did fell unconcious, the pain and blood soo much for them to take.

Reiar smirks, taking one last sigh before muttering: ''The show.. Is on.'', as he raises his dagger in order to block an incoming swing of the blade of a guard that finally got brave enough to approach him.

..brave. Or foolish. Both would apply. The rogue blocks the swinging sword between his two daggers, twisting the said sharp knives in an upwards motion. The guard gets taken by surprise, both his arms holding his shield and his sword flung upwards. The poor mate blinks, stunned by the sudden show of fightsmanship shown by the rogue.

But Reiar doesn't wait for an applause. He takes a firm step forwards and jabs his right dagger into the guard's neck, twisting it so that another waterfall of blood starts to seep down the guard's armor and chest. In the same motion, he lunges his other dagger over his shoulder, landing it in between the eyes of another soldier who was rushing at the help of his comrade, hoping to strike Reiar in his back while he was busy mutilating the first guardian of law.

Reiar lets out a deep, menacing laughter before pulling out his remaining dagger, ducking as another, third sword is slashes over his head. He lunges himself for the man that is holding the blade's handle, roaring in delight as he jabs the dagger between the armors that protect the knight's chest and legs. The soldier's eyes shoot wide in awe as Reiar snarls, pulling a line between the said armor pieces with his knife, before hopping off the guardian, readying his stance for any other that might approach. The guard of Stormwind can do nothing else but grip at his armor, unable to hold his insides from oozing out from the wound while another comrade of his drags him away from the scene.

The rogue looks over the scene around him. He is still encircled, though this time with less guards. The crowd filled up the whole street, everyone trying to feast their eyes upon the devastation brought by the criminal.

''Sentient beings.. The biggest pretenders this world has ever seen..'', Reiar thinks to himself before letting out a loud howl that chills the spine of every by-stander. He sprints to the bar, where the crowd dissapates quickly, letting him through without any obstaculation.

But he does not enter. He hops onto a set of barrels nested neatly next to the entrance, pulling himself atop the highest one. One there, he throws his gaze upon the crowd. Noone held any ranged weapon what-so-ever. This will be easier then what he suspected.

Reiar closed his eyes and lifted both his paws to his sides, making a glorious form to be gazed upon. The towered above everyone, well aware of his current position he lets out a maddening, feral laughter that echoes through the narrow streets of Stormwind, around every corner.

Up here, he was the leader. Up here, he was at home. In the spotlight, making sure everyone watches every move he made, each facial movement well noted, each wave of his paw predetermined to reach his goal, to make sure the pointless civilians followed his lead.

''Welcome, ladies an' gents' to t'bloodeh show! What a wonderful night t'is fer such attendancies, isn'it?'', Reiar yells out, moving his eyes from person to person, noting everyone's confusion and fear rise and picture themselves upon their faces. It's what he did best, it was what he was born for.

''Gather, citizens and heroes! Feast yer pupils upon the magnificent, the one and only Black Circus!'', Reiar exclaims as he throws his paws in the air, emitting a loud, roaring laughter afterwards. Gasps and whispers are heard throughout the crowd, making the mass of bodies seem as if it quivers.

''What will this glorious, splending moon-lit night bring to ye, I wonder..'', the dark rogue smirks, rubbing his chin, while looking at the assembly of all the Alliance races, widening an eye and arcing an eyebrow, questioning them with his blue crystaline gaze.

''Murdere! Killer! Someone grab him!'', certain individuals from the crowd shouted. The screams were instantly deafened by yet another laughter from the worgen high atop the barrels.

''Grab! Rip! Bite and claw! Yes, such lovely words, coming from people tha' hide among t'crowd..'', Reiar starts to speak in a low, deep, silent voice. But the rattle the crowd made is thanks to it magically, instantly shut, making his words hiss clear and deadly through the heads settled upon the shoulders of the on-lookers.

''Scoundrel! Thief! Murderer, ya call me! But behold, before ye stands yer salvation, yer protector! Who am I, if nae t'black shadow tha' haunts the misty, nightly streets of this rotten city? I'm t'one watchin' over yer daughters when they walk home, while such pigs as that..'', Reiar points down to the bloody noble corpse. ''..hunt and rape yer children! Have ye never thought?''

''Murderer!'', just one more throat screams out in his direction. Reiar lifts his paws, roaring out a chilling howl towards the moon. As he stood there, howling in either be it rage or bliss, it seemed as the night's most dangerous creature just made itself known to the public settled around him and the pub.

''Stand up! Arise, ye who dares still t'call me such!'', Reiar yells out at the crowd after his howling outbreak. His nostrils flare with rage, his body tensing up, his eyes scanning the crowd for anyone still daring to as much as whisper.

Deathly silence befell the mass, Reiar simply peering at them with a grin ever-so widening.

''Now then, let the show being..'', he adds, before suddenly, he pulls a needle out of his belt and throws it upwards to the nightly sky.

''The tip is coated in deadly posion, anyone who gets hit will die!'', he screams at the crowd in the middle of a maniacal laughter. And all that followed were screams, chaos and panic amidst the gathered on-lookers. Each trying to run away from the spot, pushing everyone around him, making it seem as if it was a rampaging anarchic mob.

At all the commotion, Reiar cannot but lift his head again and howl in extatic chaos. He always adored to see the rest of the living populations act like lambs to the slaughter. So predictable, so feeble and without an opition or idea of their own..

In the middle of such thoughts, Reiar realizes it's about time to pass on to Act II, since someone just got stung by the needle in their shoulder and was now flailing it's arms around in panic, clearly stupid enough to believe it was indeed coated in lethal substances.

''Cower, mortals! For I am t'bringer of chaos and of the Horde!''. At the last sentence, the crowd drops silent dead for a second.

''Yes! The Horde is marching at the gates this very moment! We're all doomed!'', Reiar roars out as he lifts up a torn piece of a Horde's scout tabard, clearly depicting the sigil of the Horde warriors. Hell, was he happy he encountered a sleeping orc one day in Arathi.

At the mention of the imaginary Horde attack, even more commotion ensured that Reiar sets his mind upon the completition and taking part in Act III.

''And t'is upon this day that I, Herald of the Titans, brin' destruction an' death to t'people of Stormwind!'', he yells before, dropping a smoke bomb upon the barrels on which he's standing.

Suddenly, multiple explosions break out through the alley, all of them either a sickly-green color out pitch-black smoke-screen. The people start to franticly slam against each other, trying to get away from the fumes as Reiar bellows out from high atop his pedestal of wooden crates.

''Yes, yes, yes! Choke upon t'Black Plague of t'Ol' Gods! Suffer for t'glory of Death!'', he roars towards the panic going on. The plant was going better than expected, even he expected more resistance than this. It seems that indeed, sheep will always follow the lead.

To top it off, Reiar pulls a small hangun from behind his belt. He aims it upwards towards the sky and pulls the trigger. All that the blinded people in the mists of the smoke bombs can hear is a gunshot and an agonizing scream of pain.

..oh, how he relished. How it energized him. How much he felt alive for a set of short moment. In this instant, he was the one in control. He was the musician commanding the tempo at which the people danced. And it is in that moment that he snapped.

He dives off the barrels, sprinting in the middle of the citizens, bashing against eachother.

He was the reaper, he was the one who would make the decisions and set down the rules of this certain dance.

His daggers flew through the air. He dances from person to person, seeking out any decent targets that would seem to either carry anything valuable or were a guard. He'd swing his stilettos at their throats, cutting them like a heated blade through butter, gushes of warm, sticky life-giving liquid pouring from the new-found wounds that would suddenly appear around the poor innocents found in the Mists of the Dancing Blades.

..minutes passed and quite a count of the amassed before the devilish green smoke cleared, revealing the street filled with be it bodies, blood or armor torn apart and clothes.

In the middle of it, the young worgen stood still and silent. His posture rising and falling along with his breathing, his claws gripping the deathly blades that just a moment ago danced gracefully, which were not covered in the black oozing blood which seemed to be scattered all over the scene itself.

After a few moment of perfect stillness, the male rolls his shoulders, sighing before kicking a motionless body with a hindpaw to make it roll to it's side, clearing a way for him to walk from the massacre.

By the time the guards reached the spot, ravens and ravenous birds already populated the mass of corpses and the young rogue was nowhere to be seen.


End file.
